


Through all the space and time

by John_Pigeon



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Multi, Philosophy, Psychology, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-09-07 10:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Pigeon/pseuds/John_Pigeon
Summary: Brian touched his smooth forehead and dark hair. No, that couldn't be true. Twelve hours ago he was an old grey man with a bunch of wrinkles and now he turned out to be a young boy with lush hair and sparkling eyes. Couldn’t he just have been reborn in one night? Or…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Through all the space and time](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/509803) by Голубь Джон. 

> Hi everyone!  
This is my first story on AOW. My native language is russian and I have lots of stories on it. I decided to translate one of them and hope you'll enjoy it!

Brian never liked waking up early. Opening eyes after a long sleep has always been a torture. That morning was ever worse - eyelids were likely filled with lead and refused to open. Reality was weakly fighting with dreams, so Brian didn't feel wrong at first. It was hot. Suddenly he understood that the warmth was coming from the other body. Somebody's hand was resting on his waist. And that was strange, because Anita went to visit her family and intended to spend there the whole week. May opened his eyes and jumped in surprise. The room wasn't his own, so was the bed, and the woman lying next to him was an absolute copy of his ex-wife. Brian looked down his body. His chest was full of dark curly hairs and skin didn't have any wrinkles. He moved imprudently, so the girl opened her eyes and stood on her elbow.  
  
"Morning, sweetheart." She gave him a kiss on a cheek. "Slept well?"  
  
Brian couldn't believe his eyes. His little lovely Christine was sitting in front of him. The one who was mother to his three children and the one who he broke up with thirty years ago. But at the moment she looked extremely sweet and petite. And if it still was a dream, it was too realistic.   
  
"Well, lie down a bit, and I'm gonna make breakfast". Cooed the girl, fitting in a silky gown and making her way to the kitchen.   
  
Brian didn't know how to understand this. Neither he knew what to do. He fumbled the bedside table, but mobile wasn't there. He swore under his breath and wore the first clothes that caught his eye. If he wasn't able to clear up his mind, he might try to do the same with body. He went to the bathroom, looked at the mirror and quietly swore again. His clone from 1970's was looking back at him. He touched his smooth forehead and dark hair. No, that couldn't be true. Twelve hours ago he was an old grey man with a bunch of wrinkles and now he turned out to be a young boy with lush hair and sparkling eyes. Couldn’t he just have been reborn in one night? Or…He opened the faucet and splashed water on his face, but the image didn’t go away, it only became more blurry on the drop-filled mirror.

  
One thing was clear – Brian couldn’t explain what was happening. It was time to start panicking, which he frankly didn’t want to do, so he tried to assess the situation. Somehow he turned out to be himself in the past and now lived part of his life anew. He vaguely imagined how to act in such situation. The only sober thought that came to mind was: “I need to call Roger.” Brian wiped his face and went looking for the phone. The device was found in the corridor along with a notebook. Bri sat down on the nightstand and dialed the number slowly. He had lost touch with such phones and didn’t even understand that if he’s in the seventies then there’s simply no other means of communication. His gaze stopped on the calendar - 1977. Heck.  
  
"Hello?"

The woman's voice with a subtle accent broke the silence. Brian was confused, but looked at the number on the calendar again and hesitantly answered:  
  
"Dominique? Morning..."

"Ah, Bri, morning! If you need Roger, he might be in the studio."

  
  
_"Jesus, the rehearsal. And I must be there. Damn it."  
_

  
"Bri, are you here?"  
  
May jerked. Pause went long, so he thanked Dominique and hung the phone up. It wasn't possible. The brain was frantically sorting through all the options where and how did he drink yesterday that he not only remembered nothing, but also ended up in the forty years’ ago events. No ideas came, so he obeyed the instinct and moved to the kitchen. Plate with hot omelet was waiting for him on a table. Chrissie, who was standing next to the oven, gave him a worried gaze.  
  
"Everything's alright? You look untuned.”  
  
What's he supposed to answer? Lie that everything is fine and pretend that they're still a family? Or try to explain that he lives in a 21st century and has no idea how he ended up waking up here? That they're not married anymore and have three adult children. And tell it the way she won't think her husband is out of his mind.  
  
He carefully took her palm in his and tried to pick up right words.  
  
"You know, I have a feeling that I've gone through this before, and now I'm back and forced to live my life again. And I can tell what's going to happen next. That's weird, I know. It's like deja vu, but much worse..."  
  
Chrissie gave him a light reassuring smile.  
  
"Remember, yesterday I told you that we'd rather go to bed than watch that awful film. And you were like "nope, babe, let's finish, this one is interesting". And now no wonder why you're fancying strange things." She gently squeezed his hand.   
  
Brian sighed. This reaction was understandable. If someone tried to tell him about travelling in time, he'd laugh - more or less, he's a scientist. He couldn't reproach his wife (in these circumstances she still was his wife), but his worst expectations began coming true. Even if empathetic Chrissie wasn't able to believe him, hardly anyone would.  
  
After finishing breakfast and taking and old favorite sweater that he missed so much from the wardrobe, Brian was standing in the corridor, looking at the mirror. Tight trousers fit his slender legs very well, and dark curls were in habitual mess. He still couldn't believe that he turned into a long-haired hippy from an old professor. And the crucial point was that if his mind is at least partly clear, he's tete-a-tete with his past that he always tried to avoid. Hesitated for a second, he gave Chrissie a gentle kiss and run out of the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold April wind brazenly disheveled already lush curls. Brian winced and looked around the street. And if he had some doubts at home, now he would clearly understand that he is in the past. How this happened still was a mystery. The only plausible explanation that May could come up with was that he is still drunk, and all of this is a figment of his imagination. Although a very realistic one.

Everything looked as if it had come off the pages of a history book. Flared pants, awkward sweaters and other clothes, which seemed ridiculous in the twenty-first century, adorned the bodies of all passers-by. They walked freely without staring at the screens of phones and plugging their ears with headphones. The streets were relatively empty, only largest highways sharing traffic jams. The transport looked very touching - no Porsche or Japanese foreign cars— just funny little “fords” and “fiats”.

A few punks were chatting on the street’s corner, and appearance of a guy with a strange hairstyle and guitar predictably provoked a violent reaction among them. Of course they did not recognize a star of world magnitude in him. And they couldn’t - at the moment Brian May was only on the way to this high-profile title. But it didn’t worry him much. Now the main task was to remember where the studio was located, because he needed talk to Roger as soon as possible.

Brian didn’t spend much efforts on finding the right building. As Dominique had promised, Roger showed up inside. He was sitting on a couch like a little sparrow, chin on his knees, and was methodically shooking the remains of a smoldering cigarette into the ashtray. He hasn’t changed much. The only difference was that he had his golden hair longer and no Santa Claus’ beard.

“Finally someone.” He nodded in greeting. “I thought I mixed up the day cause no one was in here.”

Brian looked at the drummer imploringly. Roger was the last hope to sort things out. For some reason, May had no doubts that Roger knows everything. Because it was Taylor who always pulled him out of all the troubles and had come to terms with all his quirks. Brian wanted to go from afar, but thought a little and blurted out:

“Rog, did we drink yesterday?”

Taylor inquiringly raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“I see someone had a great fun the other day. Remember anything?”

Brian shook his head. He remembered everything that happened before this morning quite clearly. That’s why he tried harder to understand what could have happened in the past twelve hours.

“If so, don’t you remember anything about my intentions? Maybe I told you about my plans…” May specified. If he didn't drink with Roger, he might have drunk with someone else. And it would be very nice if Roger knew who was that person. However, he might not drink at all, which didn’t make the task any easier. With every millimeter of wrinkles on Roger's forehead the hope of finding out the truth diminished.

“No, I don’t remember anything. You kind of said that you had plans at home, or I'm confusing something ...”

Roger's arguments were interrupted by the slam of the door accompanied by a noisy intermittent breath. John, who appeared in a doorway, barely caught his breath and ran a hand over his wet forehead.  
  
"Hey folks. Sorry for being late, Ronnie needed help with children."  
  
Seeing John was a delight. Brian couldn't remember when did they last saw each other or even text. John had changed much - he turned gray before other band members and somehow became more matured. And in contrast with such an unusually red-haired and young guy, the difference was especially striking. But the usual thoughtfulness did not seem to cheat on him under any circumstances - even after a run he looked a little detached. He noticed guitarist’s long look and uncertainly shook his shoulders:

“What?”

“Nothing ... just ...” Brian hesitated. He needed to lie something not very silly. ”Haven’t seen you so excited for a long time.”

“Oh my god, our hyper-punctual guitar section is late for rehearsal!”

Brian froze in place, gritting his teeth. If fate tried to test his strength this way, he has never been closer to collapse. It wasn’t even necessary to turn to imagine a crafty squint and full lips stretched out in a malicious smile. But he still turned and tried to squeeze a smile, although his throat was bounded with a tight lump. It was hard not to burst into tears like a girl. Because Freddie, a real one, not flat image or a hologram; ruddy, shaggy, in tight jeans and bottles of beer in his hands, Freddie stood in front of him. Brian wanted to pounce on him and squeeze to a crunch in the bones, but it was impossible. After all, here, in 77th, Freddie was a healthy man, full of strength, and the word “AIDS” hasn’t been ever mentioned.

And Brian literally couldn't take his eyes off of him, as if Freddie was the prettiest girl in the world. May couldn’t stop staring at the frontman’s healthy body and tanned face. Talking was beyond his power: it was worth starting, and he would certainly blurt out something superfluous. That’s why he only slowly took the offered bottle, trying to grab Freddie’s swarthy skin with his fingertips.

“Well, darlings, why I don’t see any progress? Let's get started once everything is complete.”

God. Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was very important to remain calm and pretend that nothing unusual was happening. But how could he do that when his lovely boys were with him again? He had no idea what they were working at and how is he managed to explain the situation to them. And if he’d begin to narrate that he has moved from a world where you can reach any point of the world in a second and smart cars run the show, he will be sent home and advised to sleep well. Or guys will call people in white coats - it depends on the severity of the story. It was definitely too early to talk about something, so Brian tried to smile and unzipped guitar’s case. Roger counted to three, Freddie slipped behind the piano, the bass strings buzzed ... and here it was. The moment what May has wildly missed for the last three decades.

Yes, Roger was still with him in the present. There were also Adam, Carrie and other wonderful people, but that was the missing piece. Freddie’s soft hoarseness and his swarthy fingers replacing each other on snow-white keys; Deacky’s modest smile and caustic comments. How he missed the atmosphere where he was not a master or mentor, but was one of the four young talents.

It was very strange. Brian almost forgot the feeling of such inspiration when the air in the studio was literally saturated with ideas. He eagerly swallowed it, inhaled it fully, because he didn’t know for how long was he stuck here and whether it will ever happen again. When everyone was exhausted and the music died down, Freddie gulped the beer and stared at May. Brian cringed slightly - for him Freddie was still a nightmare from the autumn of 1991, and his presence was hardly able to be adequately apprehended.  
  
“Bri, I played the song that you recently gave me, and I want to say that we can squeeze a lot out of it.” He began to purr while playing the piano, and after a few seconds Brian recognized “It's Late”, though in a completely germinal state. This meant that they had just begun working on News Of The World, and that the humanity not only hadn’t heard all the best Queen songs, but also did not even know the two greatest sports hymns. How many similar trifles Brian still needed to realize! And with every minute he felt more awful, because such an amount of absurd information simply did not fit his head. The necessity to speak was rapidly growing in his chest. However, he was barely able to talk to anyone.  



	3. Chapter 3

Everyone dispersed faster than Brian would have liked. John was the very first to leave: his spouse with two ill children was waiting for him at home. After his departure work finally came to naught. Soon Roger left the studio complaining about lack of any productivity. Freddie fiddled with the remote control for some time, but pretty soon abandoned the case and also began to pack the microphone up. And only then did Brian break through the horror of awareness. What if they’ll never see each other again? If Freddie will leave and never come back? Freddie already pulled on his jacket when he heard the timid “Wait, Freddie ...”

And then Brian came very close and hugged Freddie carefully, as if Mercury was a porcelain figure. It was not like a severe male hug, although May's hands were certainly strong. Mothers embrace their sons this way when they exchange the warmth of their home for front-line hardships. Previously Brian would rather hit him because sometimes Freddie was unbearable. Especially when it came to some kind of song and Freddie would become as stubborn as a mule, and May had felt his fists unbearably itching.

But it never came to a scuffle. Maybe that's why the situation was so good and lousy at the same time. Freddie did not break out, although he was quite unceremoniously imprinted to harsh fabric of Brian’s jacket. Although Mercury was used to the subtle mental organization of his companion, he wasn’t pleased and intended to joke. But instead he raised his head and looked into wide-opened green eyes. They showed despair mixed with loss, as it happens with abandoned puppies. A prolonged silence was interrupted by a clap on the shoulder and the creak of a closing door. Brian clenched his fists and barely restrained himself from hitting the wall. After all, he is not a woman to burst into tears without reason. But his soul was empty and heavy. He reluctantly finished the expired beer, which was waiting in the wings on the amplifier, and slammed the studio door.

Twilight reigned on the street. The atmosphere of the evening was radically different from the calm daytime: music came from clubs; groups of elaborately dressed youth were getting out of their shelters. City came to its nightlife, lit up with all the colors of rainbow. But even here, at the very epicenter of club life, Brian felt comfortable. It was his native London, with its screaming center and residential areas falling asleep after dark.

Vinyl players and tape recorders shone in the windows instead of the latest models of smartphones. City even smelled different. The air was fresher, although some quarters were saturated with the sweet smell of hash and tobacco. At home May felt nearly forgotten scent of fresh pastries in the air. Not without pleasure, Brian turned his nose, noting that he had lost the habit of such smells. Anita was not a big enthusiast in terms of kitchen fuss and cooked mainly for the feasts. Therefore, the prospect of a home dinner delighted him a lot.

"Hi! How was your day?" A light kiss landed on his cheek. 

It was wonderful not counting his mental balance was in doubt. But Chrissie, who looked tired, though still happy, smelled with berry jam and vanilla - the smell of home. So Brian sighed and answered calmly:

"Today was a nice one. How are you?"

The girl shrugged, then suddenly realized that she had almost forgotten the most important thing.

"Your mom called us for dinner. We arranged tomorrow evening. What time will you finish rehearsing?"

Brian slowly sank into a chair and clasped his hands on his head. His parents were alive. In the bustle of the day it somehow did not occur to him, but now the fact was clear. After all, he hadn’t missed anyone as much as he missed them. But it was more than enough shocking things for him during one day. And if Freddie’s appearance almost brought him to hysteria, then a visit to his parents will finally destroy his already damaged nervous system. And this was the least wanted. He needed time – there was too much to think about.

"What's up? Are you sick?"

Brian shook his head, but Chrissie sat next to him and said worryingly:

"Please tell me what's happening. I can't recognize you today. Have I offended you?"

Brian shook her palm abruptly and quietly answered:

"Please, cancel tomorrow's visit. Say anything - that I'm ill, that we have recent plans. But I'm begging you, let's not go anywhere."  
He blurted it out with such desperation that the expression on the girl's face changed from a thoughtful to a startled one. Realizing that he had crossed the fine line, Brian carefully kissed the back of her palm and went on much more calmly:

"I'm sorry, I'm actually feeling bad. Just let's stay at home, ok?"  
Chrissie bit her lip as if not wanting to answer and silently disappeared in the darkness of the rooms. Brian remained sitting, methodically fingering a baldness on the upholstery of the chair. It seemed that some little thing was about to happen, and his self-control would fell into pieces. He looked at his watch — ten minutes to ten. He didn’t want to eat anymore, but refreshing before bedtime seemed a rather helpful idea.

In the bathroom he closed the latch as if he was going to do something indecent. He slowly pulled off his sweater and took off his trousers. His own body had never evoked so many emotions in him. After all, when you are young, you think that you will remain so forever. But when you have experienced what wrinkles, loose skin and bald patches are, you begin to understand how beautiful youth is. Brian ran his fingers, not yet roughened, over the protruding collarbones and counted the ribs under his thin skin, experiencing some ticklish feeling of shyness, like a teenager at the beginning of puberty. He looked at his overly flat stomach and slender legs stretching down and thought that he was essentially not so bad at all. With this thought he unscrewed the crane at full power and stood under the warm stream. Water pleasantly flowed down his skin leaving hot wet traces. Brian stood with his face against the cold wall, until his hair firmly stuck to his forehead. A carousel of Freddie’s hot hands, John’s thoughtful face, Roger in a leopard blouse, recently started work on News Of The World, an old apartment, a landline phone, parents and his own reflection annoyingly spun in his head, interrupted only by the sound of falling water.

Wow, he is thirty years old again. He is young, handsome, not burdened by circumstances and full of thirst for life. And everything would be fine unless he knew that tomorrow he might wake up young again, or the Universe would apologize for a strange joke and he would open his eyes at home and remember nothing? Or - worst of all – he’ll return to the present, but won’t forget anything? The answer could be obtained only after surviving the night. However, falling asleep with such thoughts will be difficult. 

Brian reluctantly ended the water procedures with a touch of philosophy. Drying himself, he heard Chrissy talking on the phone. She said that she did not understand what was happening to him today and that they probably would not come tomorrow. He sat down on the bath’s side and waited for her to hang up. After a few minutes the noise behind the door died down. Brian waited some more time until his wife probably lay down and had time to fell asleep, and left. He did not want to lie at all, and Chrissie would certainly start to ask about what was happening. Hoping that she had fallen asleep, he slipped into the bedroom and climbed under the covers. Chrissie moved closer but did not say anything, only quietly murmured "good night" and buried her face into his shoulder. That was weird. They were not strangers, but at the same time they haven’t been a couple for a few decades. Brian looked at her uplifting shoulders and wondered how their life had really foolishly developed. Such a beautiful girl entrusted him with her fate, and he could not give everything that she deserved.

The guilt echoed far inside, although at the moment it was stupid. Now she, very young and careless, dreams and does not know how many times she would cry from resentment on his chest. Or how many times would they fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. Damn them, these changes in time. Brian grinned - history likes to walk in circles. What if Anita would see them now ... He was staring at the ceiling with wide-opened eyes for a long time, trying to understand what had he done to end up here.

On the one hand, it was the best gift - what could be better than living your life anew with an understanding of how everything works. Now he could avoid stupid situations and do what he wanted. At the same time this was a real punishment. All day he tried to recover, remember what could have happened four decades ago. He was again surrounded by people who had disappeared from his life long time ago. And no one, not one living soul could understand what was happening to him inside. And he still could not come to terms with the fact that some important people were not born yet, and those whose deaths worried him so much in the past were still alive.

Maybe karma threw him here – maybe it is time to correct mistakes? To do everything that he hadn’t done, to say everything he hadn’t said. If so, he is stucked here for a long time, because he’d made a lot mistakes in his life. And why did this happen to him, not to Roger or Deacky? Why did this happen to him and not to any of the seven billion people? Was he really that special? With such thoughts he was looking around the room, which was distorted by the light of lanterns, for a long time and fell asleep only when the objects began to take a clear outline.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Freddie loved giving his male friends women's nicknames/ Brian was Maggie (after Rod Stewart's song Maggie May)

The sun had been insistently shining through the curtains for several hours when Brian opened his eyes. He looked around the room and smiled to himself - he woke up the same place he fell asleep at. One problem was less - at least he understood that he was stuck here not for one day. And he was not many years, but just one day older, and it felt great. He slept for three or four miserable hours and still felt tolerable. If he had arranged such a test for himself in the present, the morning would have begun much harder. Brian did not want to get out from warm covers. A feeling of satisfaction reigned in his chest, this rare feeling that happens only in the first hours of weekend. Brian looked around lazily, refreshing the forgotten views. Suddenly his attention was attracted by a new polaroid standing on the bedside table. May burst out from under the covers and carefully picked it up. Moving into the past was worth it at least for such rarities. It was so new that Brian was ashamed to touch. Not a single scratch on the shiny frame, transparent lens ... Brian almost licked his lips. Even in the present, he would not refuse such a thing. However, getting such an item and leaving it untested was unforgivable. But there was nothing to photograph, although his hands were itching. Brian took a couple of shots of the room, but it didn't seem enough. He fidgeted on the bed and suddenly realized that he had good soil for photographs. Chrissie was lying so quietly and comfortably in a pile of blankets that he almost forgot about her presence. He pointed the lens. Sun is raising intertwined in the hair and streaking light skin - isn't she a model? A batch of clicks provoked a stir under the covers. The girl idly opened one eye and smiled. 

"Good morning, Mr. Photographer.” 

She reached out and stood up. Slightly leaned forward, sliding her fingers along her husband's chest and stomach. Her arms wrapped around his torso, outlining sharp shoulder blades. Lips swollen from sleep froze on his pale chest and slowly stretched up. Brian swallowed hard, still sitting motionless, but as soon as her hands stopped on his lower back, he suddenly shaked, forcing the girl to stagger. 

“I'm sorry, I ... I ... now ...” he jumped out of bed and backed away from the room, leaving his wife wringing her hands in bewilderment. May flew into the bathroom, as if someone was chasing him, opened the tap with cold water and generously splashed some into his face. What just happened may have been entertaining and very pleasant, but he understood that it should not have any continuation. He was not sure that he could resist the temptation (after all, he was young and healthy, and his partner had all the characteristics), but a momentary weakness would lead to bad consequences.

Seducing an ex-wife was ugly at least for ethical reasons, and he wasn't able to forget that in real life they had not been together for a long time. But the main subtlety of the situation was that it was necessary to go out and pretend that nothing had happened. But how can this be done when his wife is waiting for him in the room. He knew she would remain silent and only look at him expressively. She undoubtedly knew how to make a reproachful, but at the same time compassionate look, which was rather killing. And he must remain steadfast the whole day and be ready to dodge if she wants to get to the bottom of the truth. He simply could not resist the weakness for photography. Who is to blame that she found this romantic? The rattling telephone became an excellent distraction maneuver. Brian quickly, so that his wife didn't have time to answer, left the bathroom and rushed to the sobering device. 

"I'm listening."

“Maggie*, good morning,” Freddie had inexplicable notes in his voice. “How are you?” 

"I'm alright, but it seems you're not".

Calling without reason and pulling words into the phone wasn’t Freddie's style. He usually called for some reason and sounded like he had just won a thousand pounds dispute and was looking forward to sharing his joy. After a few seconds of silence the same languid voice thoughtfully said:

“You know, dear, I woke up today and realized that I'm completely unhappy. Not in the sense that something happened to me, just..." A meaningful silence fell, interrupted by a weak smacking. "Won't you pay me a visit? Let's share a glass..."

Brian did not specify who was meant by "you" in this context, but knowing the approximate outcome of the phrase "drink a glass" he thought it'd be better to go alone. 

"What time is better?"

"When it will be convenient for you... but you will come, right?"

Freddie sounded like a naive child, and Brian answered that he will and hung up. He will come anyway. He couldn't leave his friend in such bitterness. And yes, he absolutely needed an alibi for tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

Drunk Freddie was completely different from usual Freddie. He seemed to forget about his crooked teeth, ceased to be embarrassed by his extraordinary appearance and generally turned into a completely different creature. When Mercury opened the door, revealing the horror of any dentist to the world, Brian realized that the fun began without him.

“Bria-a-an, dear, come in!” Freddie leaned on the door jamb with one hand and tried to grab the newly-arrived guest and drag him inside with the other. Lips wet from cocktails stretched so wide that he looked more like a Cheshire cat than himself. “You missed almost nothing, but if you continue to stand there, you certainly will.” Freddie was hardly standing on his feet, but he was still able to drag his friend into the house and escort him unobtrusively into the hall. No, of course, May understood that the expression “you” was collective, but did not suspect that. There was literally nowhere to stumble in the room. The audience was mottled, and part of it looked quite weird. Freddie suddenly disappeared in the crowd, feeling like a fish in the sea. Brian shook his head — remarkable growth came in handy — and having snatched up two familiar nooks in the mass of people rushed toward them.

“And here is the missing link.” John saluted him with a glass of wine. “We thought you won't come.” He handed Brian a beer, which May gladly accepted and tasted. Loud music was not particularly conducive to conversations, but he licked the cold foam from his lips and looked at his mates.

“How long have you been here?”

“About an hour.” Roger lazily run a hand through his chair. "We didn’t understand what a booze is in honor of, but getting a freebie will not hurt anyone, right?"

He drank from the glass, frowned a little and continued:

“The contingent, of course, isn't the best one.” He doubtfully glanced at the guys in leather and chains standing nearby. “But in general, it’s not that bad in here."

That was really looking tempting. Nice music was playing, tables were bursting with snacks and booze and nine tenth of people were dressed up very pretentiously, looked extremely attractive and were infectiously laughing. Anyway, Freddie rolled parties like no one else. He himself suddenly emerged from the crowd with another batch of something strong and a playful expression on contented face.

“I see today you three are without your charming companions? That’s not that bad. After all, we sometimes need to have fun without them, hm?" Freddie slyly squinted and nodded towards a group of girls approaching the musicians.

They all looked like typical groupies, in mini-skirts and shirts with defiant necklines. Two were older and, judging by their gait and manner of holding, were natural barracudas. The third girl was barely elder than eighteen. She was dressed more modestly than the others and was stealthily looking around. It was evident that she felt uncomfortable in the "adult" debauchery, though she tried to hide it. Even in the way she peeled back the collar of Brian's shirt and tickled his neck under thick curls her teenage awkwardness was clear. Brian peered into her eyes. Uncertainty was read in them instead of passion. He carefully removed her palm from himself and rose.

"Let's go."

Her predatorily grinning companions were left talking to the rhythm section, while she obediently inseminated the long-laced guitarist. Fortunately, the situation made it possible to quietly hide from judgmental glances. And her gentleman was extremely gallant: he found a free room himself and invited her inside. The door slammed, so she was left alone with her first client. Although he looked safe, she was still scared - older friends have told her many tales about crazy rockers. But instead of dirty harassment, she felt only a light touch of someone else's hand.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t do you any harm.” May said softly. Indeed, there was nothing wrong with his thoughts. After all, he is not a pedophile to rush at children.

"Set yourself up."

The girl embarrassedly sank onto the sofa.

"Do you want something? To drink or to eat?"

“If it doesn't bother you.”

Brian went into the hall and soon returned with two glasses of wine and a couple of canapes. The girl was sitting on the sofa, knees pressed to her chin, and was bashfully pulling up her bulging skirt. She was still frightened by the unknown, although the client inspired confidence. Especially when he brought some food and sat down not very close. Brian watched this silly child stick her teeth into a crispy loaf and suddenly realized that this was exactly what he needed. He sees her for the first and probably last time in his life. And if he couldn’t tell his relatives about the situation then why not to share it with a stranger?

“You will probably think that I'm insane or flew off the coils. But I'm begging you to listen because I cannot share this with anyone."

The girl batted her eyelashes intelligently, and he slowly began:

"Everything I'm going to say will sound like complete absurdity, but it's true. In fact, I live in the future, at the very beginning of the twenty-first century, and it turns out that now I am in the past. I do not know how the hell has this happened, but last morning I woke up here in the same bed with my ex-wife. My children, who already have their own babies have not yet been born, and my friend who died almost thirty years ago is throwing a party. I know that this sounds strange, I haven't completely figured out what's that, but today's the second day I can’t find a place for myself. I feel awful because no one is able to understand me."

Brian listened to himself and thought that he must look like a complete idiot. It wasn't surprising that the girl stopped eating and looked at him with apprehension. He dismissed.

"God, forget everything I just said. Think I'm just a crazy musician."

An awkward silence bound the room. The girl hastily drank the wine trying not to raise her eyes. Brian watched her swallow hard and wondered what this divine dandelion had forgotten at this wild party and how on Earth could she be brought to a debosh with insane rock musicians. Not only wasn't she able to seduce someone, but also was embarrassed by one attempt to speak! He waited for the girl to hurry to the exit and asked without losing some kind of father's tenderness in his voice.

“Are you here of your own free will?”

She frozed and shook her head.

"Need money?"

The girl pursed her lips guiltily. She was so disgusted with herself that she didn’t even want to say it out loud. Brian fumbled in his pockets, found a rumpled twenty-pound note and gave it to the girl. She tried to knelt herself between his legs, but he abruptly stopped her and pointed to the door. The knocking of the heels subsided for a long time. Brian was sitting still and thinking about the strange groupie. If she had come to him forty years ago, he probably wouldn't have let her go just like that. Of course, he wouldn't offend her, but he definitely would have taught her something... Now it was either his father’s instinct or banal wisdom, but he felt sorry for the sweet little girl in his own way. What if his precious Louisa or Emily were in such situation? Unbearable. But how grateful he was to Freddie who had found this innocent creature somewhere and somehow miraculously dragged her into the thick of party! Although there was one more person in the world who thinks Queen's guitarist is out of his mind, he felt a lot better.

Brian desperately didn't want to leave the room. He slowly finished the wine, turned the empty glass in his hands and watched the oily drops gracefully slip along the rounded walls. After some time, the music from the hall began to subside, and his eyelids gradually became heavier. He no longer heard the guests disperse, the floorboards creaking treacherously, and quiet steps of Freddie, who covered him with a rug and put his drunken dark head on Brian’s sharp knees.


	6. Chapter 6

Brian was awakened by someone touching his hair. Freddie was sitting next to him on the couch and twisting one of the curly locks on his finger.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. You look awful."

May rubbed his eyes and glanced at the mirror on the wall. After sleeping miserable time, he really wasn't in the best shape. Lush hair was disheveled, a deep dent stretched across the cheek. He glanced at Freddie: large circles were turning blue under sleepy eyes; eyelids were smeared with mascara and haggard face gave a slight shade of green.

“You're no better.” He remarked sarcastically and stroked his wrinkled hair.

They had studied each other with silly smiles until Freddie opened his dry lips.

"You'd better change clothes because it barely survived the party."

Brian looked down. If the trousers could still be saved with wet hands, then the shirt needed a good wash and even better ironing. Freddie, meanwhile, had already opened the wardrobe and almost climbed into it. Soon an immense bright T-shirt flew out onto the bed.

“It was someone's present, but it's too big for me." Freddie explained. “I think it’ll suit you.”

May obediently wore the shirt which was still a little small and opened the view on his sunken belly.

He looked at Freddie’s sudden transformation. Mercury replaced his party outfit with domestic pants and free-size shirt. Now he was more like a domestic cat than a flamboyant star, so needed hospitality awoke in him. He dragged the guest into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.

"Tea, coffee? Or maybe champagne and girls?" Freddie slyly winked and began to fumble the kitchen shelves with his hands. Brian grinned. Freddie definitely didn’t feel the best way after a huge party, but he still witted and tried to look cheerful.

“I won’t refuse a cup of coffee.” May answered, and after a couple of minutes a fragrant drink was already smoking before him. He dipped his lips and smiled blissfully. He hadn't felt so good for a long time and was absolutely happy now, sitting in a friend’s kitchen, in his T-shirt, smelling his sweetish cologne with notes of cinnamon. Freddie was sitting in front of him, terribly cozy and dear, looking thoughtfully at the wall and tapping his fingers on the table. Brian understood that he needed to get out of this house as soon as possible, because after a couple of sips of playful looks he wouldn't be able to let Freddie go again. He remembered Freddie as an ambitious young man who was ready to sell his soul for new velvet trousers. He remembered all the times he took Mercury from the clubs, soldered him with tea and washed off the leaked mascara. But the clearest memory was a terrible day when he, along with John and Roger, stood near the Garden Lodge and crumpled a bouquet of white roses in his hands. He simply didn't have the strength to survive it again. He sipped coffee, chasing away sad thoughts, and insinuatingly asked: 

“Fred, tell me honestly, what happened? Not without reason have you gathered almost a hundred people?"

Freddie raised his eyebrows, becoming angry and upset at the same time.

"I had a big fight with Mike - well, as always, we told each other nasty things ... and then he called me a jerk and told me not to call him again ... You're asking what all this farce is for? Yes, I was hoping till the very end that this bastard would drag his ass and apologize! Like a fool I called him home for half a day, left messages, but this arsehole didn’t even react! And all this show was in order not to get drunk and die from the feeling of my own uselessness!"

He almost spat out the last words, so May felt uneasy.

“But why didn’t you just call Roger, Deacky or me and didn’t ask to come? After all, we're not strangers..."

"In order to sob with lamentations like a girl on your broad chest so you would console me? No thanks." Mercury grinned wryly. "I will leave it your missus. By the way, does she know where her husband is?"

"Hope she guessed that I stayed with you."

The sound of a doorbell interrupted their conversation. Boys got up almost synchronously, and Freddie lazily headed for the door. Mary, who was standing in the doorway, started up. She didn't expect them to open. She shrugged awkwardly and crossed the threshold.

“Hello, Freddie... Oh, Brian, and you're here. Hello."

She glanced over their tired faces and strange vestments, imagining the scale of yesterday's drinking. Brian gave her a return look. As long as he remembered her, Mary never changed. She reminded him of a doll from an antique store: the same light bangs covering naively wide eyes, thin pink lips and pale skin. Mary also somehow always looked a little lost: when they foolishly exchanged a pair of meaningless kisses, when she appeared in the shadows at parties, and even while talking to press. 

Even now, she didn’t fully understand what she was doing here. Obviously, she still believed that coming in the morning without an invitation was a bad idea, but she overpowered herself and blazed, as if explaining her sudden intrusion:

"Freddie called yesterday, invited me to the party, but I had a terrible headache so I refused. And now I was walking by and decided to go in and check how you were doing..."

Mary was a pathetic liar, but Brian pretended to believe. Mary was ashamed of her lie, otherwise she wouldn't have stood and nervously play with a small clutch in her hands. It was clear that she hadn't come not because of poor health or laziness. She simply could not watch how Freddie would ruthlessly ruin himself with another poisonous cocktail and one-night partner. Perhaps that was the reason why she looked at May with reproach like "you supposedly arrived and didn't stop him from killing himself"; but a plea was read in this look. She didn't know why she had come, but she needed to stop feeling guilty. Brian felt like a fifth wheel.

“Guys, let me go and you'll be able to sort things out ...”

Freddie nodded reluctantly.

“Let me call a taxi. You'd better not go outside in such a weird outfit.” Freddie grinned and reached for the phone. The car was handed over soon, and Brian, in order not to prolong the farewell, quickly put on a badly frayed shirt, hugged Mary and agreed to meet Freddie tomorrow in the studio. Brian thought it'd be better to let them deal with their cockroaches themselves, because he had enough problems for himself. 

He returned home near midday. Suspicious silence alerted from the doorway. Chrissie was reading in the living room, but as soon as he entered, she put down the book and gave him a fixed look. He immediately looked at her pursed lips and shifted eyebrows: she was unhappy.

"Where have you been?"

“At Freddie's, I had told you.”

"You said that you were going to pay a visit and not to stand for the whole night. Might have called, I was worried."

“Sorry.” Brian answered dryly. He felt sick of how insincerely and stereotyped it sounded. How many such “sorry” has she heard from him. She still trusted his words, although looked at him suspiciously.

And the next morning Brian found a note on the table. Chrissie had written that she’d stay at her sister’s house because poor girl was very sick and someone was needed to sit with nephews. A telephone number was briefly scratched under the text. Brian turned the paper in his hands and sighed. Of course, she was able to pay her sister a visit, but the tone of their last brief conversation made him doubtful. Well, it's better to let her stay with one of her friends for about a week than to run into conflict, that's clear. Brian, of course, was pleased with his wife’s presence, because it always meant a fresh lunch, washed clothes, talking about nothing and some kind of female attention. But the prospect of living alone for at least a couple of days was so seductive that he threw out a piece of paper and grinned smugly. He began to like his past life more and more.


End file.
